Whassat?
by Bionic Egypt
Summary: Five year old Adam has just reached his inquisitive stage. The one question he can't stop repeating? Whassat! Rated T cause I'm paranoid


**So this is another Little Lab Rats fic by me! I think they would be so cute as little kids, and Adam would probably be so adorably stupid. On that note, enjoy **_**Whassat?**_

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Whassat?

The oldest of the bionic kids was just reaching five. Mr. Davenport hadn't really thought this whole taking-care-of-children-thing out very well, so when Adam reached him inquisitive stage, he certainly wasn't prepared for the bombardment of questions.

"Whassat?!" Adam asked, pointing to Eddy.

Mr. Davenport sighed. "That's Eddy, the smart home system."

"I'm not a 'that,'" Eddy added, offended.

"Whassat?!" Adam asked, pointing to the tiny capsule he slept in.

Mr. Davenport rested his head in his hands. "That's your capsule, Adam. You sleep in there."

"Whassat?!" the small boy asked yet again, pointing to the chair.

Mr. Davenport had absolutely no idea how Adam could be so dimwitted even at the age of five. "That's a chair, Adam."

And that's how the next ten minutes of the day went. Every time Adam said "Whassat?!" and pointed, Mr. Davenport would have to explain it to the small child. But it was when Adam got a glimpse of a mirror that things got interesting.

"Whoa . . . Whassat?!" Adam asked in awe, pointing to the small figure he saw in the mirror.

Mr. Davenport smiled. He honestly doubted that Adam had ever seen his own reflection before.

"That's you," he said, placing a hand on the tiny child's shoulder. "This glass thing is called a mirror, and it shows the world backwards, see?" Mr. Davenport waved a hand, showing Adam how a mirror flipped everything around.

"Whoa . . ." Adam whispered. He reached out a small hand and touched the cool glass surface of the mirror. His reflection copied his movements perfectly. "Is it anofer world?" he asked, turning to the older man beside him.

Mr. Davenport's smile grew a bit. "I like to think so," he said. "You know what? Someday I'm going to make a machine that'll take people into the mirror and let them see just what's on the other side."

Adam grinned. "I can dwo it," he said, pulling his tiny fist back. "Watch!"

Before Mr. Davenport could stop him, Adam threw one of his first punches at the reflective mirror and shattered it into a thousand pieces. Many of them fell directly onto the floor, a few sprayed past the two standing there, but a couple hit them dead on.

One of the glass shards stabbed Adam, leaving him with a cut on his hand. Another hit him in the cheek, grazing him but still cutting the tiny boy. Mr. Davenport had a few scrapes and cut as well, but he was used to a small amount of pain. The five year old wasn't.

"Owwwww!" Adam howled, plopping right down on the floor and starting to cry. He held his injured hand to his chest, tears trickling down his face.

Mr. Davenport visibly paled. He could barely deal with normal bionic children –a phrase that should never really be used ever again –so he had no idea how to deal with a crying one. The twenty-something year old man gently picked up the four year old boy and carried him over to the table. He set Adam down and started rooting around for the first aid kit.

Once he found it, he pulled out all the things that he would need to fix Adam up. Mr. Davenport carefully cleaned out the two cuts the poor boy had given himself –while telling Adam to never punch a mirror again –and used Band-Aides to cover them up. After he was sure Adam was okay, Mr. Davenport went to go clean up the broken glass.

If he had been a superstitious man, Davenport would've thought about that myth that said if you broke a mirror you would have seven years of bad luck. But Davenport wasn't a superstitious man; he was a rational, logical man, and he didn't believe that breaking a mirror would cause anyone to have bad luck. Davenport didn't even believe in karma.

Once all the glass was cleared up and the broken mirror disposed of, Mr. Davenport helped Adam off the table and back onto the floor. The tiny boy looked up at him and beckoned him closer. Davenport leaned down, wondering what Adam wanted. When the two were eye level, Adam wrapped his arms around the man's neck.

It was the first time any of the children had ever hugged Davenport or vice versa, so he was a bit stunned. It took him about two seconds to react, but when he did, the older man reached out and hugged Adam back.

The two stood there for a while, just hugging, until Adam let go, using a bit of his massive strength to push Davenport back. Mr. Davenport was a bit hurt by the boy's sudden rejection, but he quickly banished it from his mind. No, he was just their creator, not their father, and it was wrong to act any different.

"Mr. Davenpwort?" Adam said slowly, looking up at him with huge puppy-dog eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Whassat?" Adam said, pointing to the man.

How was he going to answer? Mr. Davenport decided to wing it. "I'm Mr. Davenport, your creator."

"Does dat mean daddy?" Adam asked.

Mr. Davenport thought that he had never heard a more heart-wrenching question. Oh how he wanted to tell Adam that it did, that creator meant father, but he couldn't. No, he had to keep a decent amount of distance between himself and the children. So he went against all instinct yelling at him to say yes and answered the small boy.

"No, it means I created you," he explained sadly. "I'm not your daddy, Adam. I'm just the guy who takes care of you."

Adam's face fell. "Oh."

The two stood there in silence for a few seconds before Adam broke it.

"Whassat?!"

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**Aww! How adorable, right? I really liked writing this, 'cause it sounded so cute when I thought of it. And honestly, writing a dimwitted five year old Adam was just too cute an opportunity to pass up. Thanks so much for reading!**

**~C**


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